


Only in Dreams

by keita52



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Other, Pining, Seduction, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:51:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8081977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keita52/pseuds/keita52
Summary: A desire demon takes an unusual interest in Dorian, from his days in Minrathous to his time with the Inquisition.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lwinged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwinged/gifts).



The demon was old by mortal reckoning, though it paid little attention to the passage of time. Such things did not concern the inhabitants of the Fade. Regardless of what year the mortals counted it as, some of them would inevitably find their way there and open themselves up to demons.

The mortals the demon came into contact with shaped it, gave it a name and a figure to wear while it tempted them. Sometimes it succeeded. Sometimes it did not. It had gotten better at judging who would succumb and who would resist since its birth. Mages from Circles did not always resist and mages who called themselves apostates did not always succumb, in defiance of what many mortals believed.

The demon tempted every mortal mind it encountered. That was its purpose, its reason for existing. It enjoyed the challenge of it as much as the rewards it got from successful temptation. The joy of examining the puzzle of mortal minds and figuring out what made them tick was near ecstasy. That puzzle made each temptation fresh and exciting.

And then, to experience the flesh… how glorious! To have solid hands that could hold objects, to be able to _seek out_ minds to tempt instead of waiting for them to come to the demon. It was worth the pain that inevitably followed when someone discovered its’ true nature and killed it. Pain was the worst part of being mortal, even with the demon strengthening the mortal’s body well past what its prior limits had been.

When it was slain, the demon returned to the Fade as a bodiless mass of energy and reformed itself. It was not the same entity that it had been before taking on mortal form, but it was still the same demon. Mortals might not have seen it that way, but the demon always knew itself.

Because it was old, and clever, it had the luxury of knowing when to walk away from a mortal that could not be tempted. There was always another mind somewhere else in the world with an opening for it to exploit. One mortal was as good as any other, after all. It would always laugh at its brethren who _insisted_ on sticking with the same mortal until the bitter end, until either possession or banishment. Some of them, like the ones who fed on Pride or Rage, could not help themselves. It was part of their nature.

Even some of its own kind — others who fed on Desire — were too stubborn to know when they were beaten. Those received the most scorn from the demon. How pathetic it was, to trail after a mortal like … well, another mortal.

Then the demon encountered a mortal who was different. One who brought out its baser instincts, who pushed it far past what it had been willing to go before.

A Tevinter mage named Dorian Pavus.

* * *

The demon watched Dorian’s mind before reaching out to him for the first time.

It saw how he struggled with the desires he felt for other men, desires that his society told him were improper. Completely ridiculous, of course. Desire was desire, especially to the demon.

Dorian’s struggles with these desires made him ripe for temptation. Always yearning for what he could never have … and a powerful mage to boot. If the demon had been inclined to such things, it would have salivated at the prospect.

The demon finally decided it was time to make its way into Dorian’s dreams. It took the form of a handsome young man Dorian had barely avoided staring at in the streets and recreated said streets as the backdrop to Dorian’s dream. When a worn-out Dorian glanced its way, it gave him its best seductive smile - one that had captivated many a mortal before this.

Dorian shook himself and turned his gaze away. The demon smiled to itself. It had known that this one would not be so easily won.

 _“Why do you deny yourself, Dorian Pavus?”_ the demon crooned, its voice low and husky. _“Come to me. I can show you such pleasure as you have barely imagined.”_ It placed itself in front of Dorian, hands on his suddenly bare chest. Dorian gave a start and a shiver.

“I know what you are,” Dorian said. He was trying to appear strong, but the demon felt the desire in him. It basked in it, grew stronger, and directed that new power back towards Dorian. It tried to encourage the fantasies that were dancing through Dorian’s mind.

 _“Indeed. I am no spirit of Pride, to try and fool you.”_ The demon trailed a hand down Dorian’s face. _“You’re far too intelligent for that. That’s part of what drew me to you. Such potential… and you waste it. Acting out against your father and society at large.”_ It _pulled_ at the air around Dorian, trying to fog his mind with exuded desire.

“I don’t know, I’m rather enjoying my current reign of debauchery.” But Dorian’s eyes were half-lidded, his hands twitching at his sides as though they wanted to reach for the demon. Taking a chance, the demon pressed its hips against Dorian’s crotch, hands sliding around to rest on his ass. Dorian tilted his head back, and the demon eagerly seized the invitation and began kissing the side of his neck — slow, gentle, lingering kisses that allowed it to taste the sweet mortal desire exuding from him.

 _“Oh yes, you are,”_ the demon purred in between kisses. With their bodies pressed so closely together, it could practically read Dorian’s mind. In some ways, the thoughts were similar to those of all the other mortals it had tempted over the years. _Maker, this is a_ demon _, I shouldn’t be doing this, I know what it wants from me and I shouldn’t…_

But there was also more. There was so much seething discontent. Dorian _did_ want things to be different, and he actually had the drive to do something about it. He just knew that as a lowly student, he was unable to achieve that. The power the demon offered could go a long way towards putting him in a position to change things…

_No one will listen to me now._

_So we wait,_ the demon thought at Dorian. _We wait. We plan. When the time is right, we strike._

Dorian abruptly shoved the demon backwards. The demon cursed itself for the mistake. Had it moved too fast?

“No,” Dorian said, and his voice was strong, brooking no argument. “What you offer comes at too high of a price.”

The demon looked at Dorian, seeing the obvious bulge in his crouch, tasting the desire that still swirled around him. Pushing him now would only serve to harden Dorian’s resolve more.

Pushing him _later,_ though…

The demon pouted, letting its disappointment be obvious. _“If that’s how you truly feel,”_ it said with a sigh as it drew back.

“Giving up so easily?” Dorian asked wryly. “I’m rather disappointed. I expected more from a desire demon.”

The demon resisted the urge to smirk. _Naturally_ Dorian would have expected more in the way of temptation. _“I see that you cannot be swayed on this matter, and I do not care to waste my time on fruitless efforts.”_

Dorian snorted. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Faster than thought, the demon leaned back in to steal one final, lingering kiss from Dorian. _“I would forgive you anything,”_ it purred as it released its hold on Dorian’s dream.

The demon returned to its corner of the Fade and allowed itself a few moments of satisfaction. It had gotten its hooks into Dorian, even if he didn’t realize it. The demon — and, perhaps, its unconventional behavior — would remain on Dorian’s mind for days to come. Centuries of tempting mortals allowed the demon to judge how successful it had been.

It would wait a week, it decided, until it went back to Dorian’s dreams. Such a delay increased the chance that there would be some exterior event that would make Dorian more vulnerable. The demon savored the thought, the sweet anticipation of the time when the handsome mage would be its slave.

Days passed. The demon kept watching Dorian. As it had hoped, Dorian was more on edge. Perhaps it was the rejection Dorian endured when he misjudged the tastes of one of his companions. Perhaps it was the angry lecture that one of his teachers gave him for being inattentive.

Or it could have been the demon’s offer, ticking away in the back of his mind. It rather hoped that was the case.

The demon waited until Dorian was in the middle of a genuine dream before entering his mind, twisting the dream around to allow for its entrance. It adopted the guise of the same handsome young man it had used before.

“You again,” Dorian said, folding his arms across his chest defensively.

_“Aren’t you the clever one,”_ the demon purred appreciatively. Color rose in Dorian’s cheeks, and the demon felt a surge of delight. It advanced on Dorian, walking towards him in lieu of teleporting itself. It felt the desire exuding off of Dorian’s body and touched it, using its own magic to increase that desire, to overwhelm and cloud his judgment.

Dorian took a deep breath, hands clenching at his side. The demon smiled in satisfaction and closed the distance between them, pulling him into a loose embrace. It wriggled its hips against Dorian’s and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. The demon kissed Dorian, a slow and gentle kiss, not too demanding, and felt the mage respond. Smiling, it deepened the kiss, continuing to use its magic to increase Dorian’s desire. It slid a part of itself into his mind, more open to the demon with every kiss they shared. _So good,_ it whispered, trying to match the feel of Dorian’s own thoughts. _Feels so good … and it’s been so long …_

The demon felt Dorian accept these thoughts, drink them in, which strengthened the connection between them. Encouraged, it shaped more thoughts, this time going directly for imagery. It wouldn’t normally have moved this fast, but something about Dorian … about the way he felt in its embrace, the taste of his power in the air, was resonating with the demon. The _want_ it felt flowed from it into Dorian’s mind with its projected images of the demon and Dorian, naked limbs twined together on the bed that the demon had just conjured up nearby.

Dorian shuddered in the demon’s arms and took a step backwards. It seized the advantage once more and pushed them both forward, tumbling them onto the covers with the demon on top of Dorian. The demon banished the clothes Dorian was wearing and ran a gentle finger up his erection. The strength of the connection between them allowed some of his thoughts and impressions to leak into its mind. The feel of the impossibly soft sheets that Dorian would never have bought for himself. The demon felt the conflict within Dorian, that oh-so familiar balance between admonitions never to give into a demon …

And the tempting prospects that dangled right in front of him, the idea that he could change his life for the better. That he could stop being miserable and alone and instead become the life of the party, the one that everyone else wanted to be around — that everyone stopped and paid attention to. 

 _“You can have this,”_ the demon said, abandoning the whispers. It was impatient. It wanted to claim Dorian for itself, _now._ _“You can have me, and all that I offer. Wealth. Power. Magics long forgotten.”_ The air was thick with desire, so thick that the demon wondered whether Dorian could see it. It breathed it in and then channeled it towards Dorian, making him cry out in ecstasy. _“All I need from you is a single word. Yes. Say yes to me, Dorian Pavus, and we will begin our glorious partnership.”_

The sound of Dorian’s moan was most pleasing. It closed its hand around his erection and moved up, slowly and deliberately. The moan that came next was more ragged and desperate. The demon desperately wanted to press itself against Dorian and kiss him.

But it was coming right up against the edge of the rules that governed it. That governed all demons. There were a million different ways to tempt mortals, but a demon was not permitted to use _too_ much of its power before the mortal had agreed. And Dorian had to _say_ that he accepted the demon’s offer. At this particular moment, the demon found this to be an intrusive annoyance, but it could no more break the rule than it could stop itself from tempting mortals in the first place.

Reluctantly, the demon released Dorian’s erection and shifted so that it was kneeling next to the bed, its mouth right by his ear. The whimpers of disappointment were rather encouraging. _“Say yes,”_ it urged. _“And I will pick up right where I left off.”_

The demon saw coherency start to return to Dorian’s features and realized that it had overplayed its hand. The look that he turned on the demon was hard and determined, despite the sheen of sweat that covered his chest, despite the breathing that was still heavy and an erection that was still hard. “No,” Dorian said. “I will not accept. I will not let you in, demon.”

With a snarl, the demon dissolved the dream and spun away into a dark corner of the Fade. It had _lost_. Because of its own mistake, its own impatience. It was unspeakably embarrassing.

It tried again the next night, wearing a different appearance, but Dorian saw through that and refused the demon once more. Fury burned in the demon’s heart as it returned to its own corner of the Fade. It snarled, and paced the length of its domain, until it looked down at its hand and saw flames.

The demon felt fear then, and panic. It did not want to change into a rage demon. Such things did happen, especially through contact with the mortal world. But it _liked_ its own existence. It enjoyed feeding off of desire. Such a sweet emotion, with infinite potential. Rage demons always ended with destruction and fire.

It thought of Dorian while looking at its hand, and saw the fire once more. The fire burned hotter as it realized that it now had to abandon all plans to seduce him. For whatever reason, _this_ mage, _this mortal_ was able to affect the demon’s emotions more strongly than any that had come before him.

So it had to leave Dorian alone.

* * *

Years passed in the mortal world. The demon was among those drawn to Kinloch Hold during the Fifth Blight, delighting in the chance to pass through the Veil _without_ a direct possession.

It was also among those slain by the Warden, but such were the risks of demonic life.

A dying mage whose lover had spurned her needed very little persuasion when approached. She was discovered and killed, but not before the demon had helped her take the minds of her lover and half a dozen others in her Circle. The demon considered it to be a great success.

It visited Kirkwall along with many other demons, but found very little foothold there. Demons of Despair, Rage, and Fear had a much easier time of it. The demon allowed itself to take some comfort in the chaos sown by its brethren. It helped, a little.

And then, it was drawn to the newly repopulated Skyhold.

The demon resisted the urge to watch Dorian at first, remembering the near-disaster of their previous encounter. But of all the minds at Skyhold, Dorian’s was the one that spoke most strongly to the demon — and not just because of their shared history.

Dorian was in love with the Inquisitor. The mage would not call it love, engaging in that sweet self-denial that made him all the more vulnerable to the demon. The demon had to admit that as mortals went, Faron Lavellan was incredibly attractive. Ash-blonde hair that seemed to glint silver in the right light, despite his youth. The slim, elegant build so common among elves that leant him graceful, fluid movement--especially when wielding his spirit blade in combat. The demon considered trying to tempt Lavellan. If it succeeded, it _would_ have Dorian in a roundabout fashion, which was almost as appealing as the thought of the power and influence wielded by the Inquisitor.

But the Inquisitor was watched carefully, examined from every angle by a thousand different faces. If the demon did manage to take Lavellan, its reign as the Inquisitor was likely to be incredibly short-lived.

Far better to try Dorian again. The demon knew it was risky. It also knew that it had something much better to offer Dorian this time. It would have Dorian make advances on the Inquisitor, slowly, using only mundane methods to start. When the Inquisitor’s guard was down, it would ensure that Lavellan became devoted to Dorian. The demon indulged in a brief fantasy— of Lavellan, sitting on the floor next to the throne of the Inquisitor, leaning against the leg of the man who currently occupied the throne. Dorian reached a hand down and patted Lavellan’s head. Lavellan looked up at Dorian, his expression one of pure adoration.

The demon smiled. Time to make that lovely fantasy into its new reality. If it had Dorian and Lavellan … there was no telling how long it would be able to live in the mortal world.

* * *

Dorian dreamed of the Inquisitor every night. The demon made sure of it.

Every night it hovered just outside of Dorian’s dreams, growing stronger off of the desire Dorian felt for the Inquisitor. Then it sent that desire back at Dorian so that his subconscious had no choice but to give him dream after dream about Faron Lavellan.

The demon spent several enjoyable nights watching Dorian squirm and twist in his sheets. Sometimes Lavellan was accommodating and eager; sometimes he utterly ignored Dorian.

When the day came that Dorian avoided Lavellan completely, in a complete break from his normal pattern of catching any glimpse of Lavellan that he could, the demon knew he was ready.

That night, the demon was there as soon as Dorian’s dream started. Lavellan had his back to Dorian, seemingly ignoring the other man. The demon took Dorian’s yearning and multiplied it until Dorian could no longer resist the urge to go over and touch Lavellan’s shoulder to try and get his attention.

The demon slid into the dream, taking over Lavellan’s image. The demon turned around and gave Dorian its best smile. Dorian’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. The demon took Dorian’s hands in its own, squeezing them gently before pulling the mage in for a kiss.

Dorian melted in the demon’s embrace, trembling with desire, his thoughts swirling in the air around them. _Maker yes feels so good ah Maker want him need him_ …

 _“Why do you hold yourself back?”_ the demon asked in between kisses. _“Why engage in such self-denial, Dorian? Can you not see how much I want you?”_

 _Just a dream_ , Dorian’s mind wailed. _Just a dream, never going to happen for real._

 _It could be real._ The demon ran its hands up Dorian’s bare chest, then moved to caress his back. _You could make it real…_

Dorian’s mind shied away from that prospect. He was too scared of rejection, the demon knew. He had been rejected so many times that he was afraid to try again.

Which played right into the demon’s hands.

 _“It has been far too long, hasn’t it, Dorian,”_ the demon murmured, caressing Dorian’s back with gentle hands. _“Too long since you could just let go … with someone who cares about you and only wants to see your desires fulfilled.”_

With his head tilted back, Dorian moaned softly. The demon took that as a yes, and moved in to kiss Dorian’s neck gently. _“That can end now, Dorian,”_ the demon said, running his hands down to rest on Dorian’s ass. _“You can have me as your lover and companion.”_

“Yes,” Dorian breathed. “Faron, I … I love you.” He rested his head on the demon's shoulder as he embraced him, pressing their two bodies close as if he wanted to meld them together. The demon shuddered in delight at the thought. Soon. Soon it would have Dorian.

 _“You have only to give yourself to me, completely and fully,”_ the demon crooned. _“With your desire and devotion … we can do so much together.”_

Dorian pulled his head back and looked at the demon. While it was pleased that Dorian was studying it so intently, there was a bit too much intelligence in that gaze for its liking. Had it given itself away? _Again?_

How was it possible that a mortal, _this_ mortal, had such influence and insight?

“I thought that I’d never see you again.” There was both disbelief and awe in Dorian’s voice. “I thought I made it clear that I will _not_ accept anything you offer to me.” And more than a hint of anger.

The demon did its best to recover from the indignity of being discovered. All its careful planning, all the time it had schemed over the best way to seduce Dorian - gone. Useless. It kept its own anger under control. _“That was before I had something that you truly desired with all your heart. Something that you, yourself, have thought that you would give up everything for.”_ It raised one of its hands and laid it against Dorian’s cheek before moving up to tangle in his hair. _“This face. This person. The one that you admire so greatly; who stands up for the things you care about.”_

Dorian’s heartbeat quickened and his face softened, some of the anger dissipating. The demon smiled and trailed its hand down his chest. _“He could be yours entirely and he would never know that it wasn’t his own idea. Everything would be the same as it is now, just … better.”_ At first. The demon would have to be careful and make its desired changes slowly.

“You’re giving me the hard sell,” Dorian said, a hesitant waver in his voice. His skin was hot against the demon’s, his hands pressed hard into its biceps. He met its eyes, and the demon felt something rather peculiar happening in its stomach. “Why?”

 _“Because I want you.”_ As soon as the words were out of its mouth, the demon wished it could take them back. It wondered if, somehow, _it_ was dreaming. Honesty was not something it regularly employed. And admitting weakness to a mortal?

But perhaps it was overreacting. Perhaps Dorian wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary with that admission.

“Why me?” Dorian persisted, taking a step back out of their embrace. The demon could have howled with frustration. This was going all wrong, and it didn’t know why.

“You’re skirting right up against the edge of your rules … for me. Going out of your way to dangle the _most_ tempting bait possible … to get me to agree to your deal.” Dorian was backing further away. Frantic, the demon tried to follow him. It should have been able to. This was its domain, a place where it knew the rules and where it was in control.

Somehow, Dorian stayed out of reach.

“Why am I different, demon? What about me attracts you?”

_“I don’t know!”_

The admission burst from it as the previous one had — unwillingly and unexpectedly. This time, it was the one to take a step back, fear building in its heart. Trembling, it looked down at its hand and saw a greenish energy there.

Dorian had evoked a strong emotion other than desire in the demon. Just as before.

It turned to flee, and instead saw a mirror of itself standing there. The _real_ Faron Lavellan. And besides him, another elf - bald, thin, seemingly harmless. But the demon saw age in those eyes and that soul, and knew that he was the most dangerous mortal at this little impromptu gathering.

Lavellan’s jaw dropped open as he took in Dorian, and the demon. “What …”

“It seems we have found the demon that is keeping Dorian in his unnatural slumber,” the bald elf said. “And, perhaps, also the source of his recent odd behavior.”

“I’m right here,” Dorian snapped.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry,” Lavellan babbled, giving the demon a wide berth as he moved to Dorian’s side. “I’m just … I’m so glad to see that you’re all right. I was so worried. I didn’t see you all day, and I _thought_ you were supposed to be working with Fiona on something, but she said she hadn’t seen you, and then I went to your room and…” He took Dorian’s hands, then looked down and realized what he’d done. Face flushing, he tried to back away, but Dorian turned his hands over to twine their fingers together. Lavellan looked over at the demon, then down at their joined hands. “Oh. Um.”

“You’re so cute when you blush,” Dorian teased lightly.

That was it. That was the last straw. The demon felt envy, rage, sorrow — all those things that _others_ of its kind were supposed to feed on. It cast one last, wary glance at whichever Evanuris this was before it fled back to its own corner of the Fade.

* * *

Try as it might, the demon could not come up with any sort of satisfactory explanation for its behavior.

It had lost mortals before. Even those it had been sure of, the ones that it had invested so much time and planning into. Such things happened. That was how the demon always viewed it.

It had even seen variations of that specific scenario before. Some other mortal arrives at the last minute, or gets the truth out of the prospective victim, blocking the demon from trying anything else.

But never had the loss felt so visceral, so _personal_. As though it had been … _wooing_ Dorian, only to see him give his heart to another. The thought made it want to rush back and dispose of Faron Lavellan, so it could somehow take his place.

Except — it was somehow sure that Dorian would know.

Why _was_ Dorian different?

The demon spent a lot of time going over that question. Other mages had been more powerful; other mortals more handsome and witty. It had encountered mortals in complete and utter ruin, where their desire for a way out was _so_ strong that they barely thought twice before accepting the demon’s offer.

Dorian, though, had done something no other mortal had done. He had _read_ the demon. And he had only been able to do so because _it had let him_. Connections went both ways, after all.

It took more time to digest that idea, that it had felt so strongly about one particular mortal that it had become open to that mortal. A lesser demon, it realized, would have been destroyed by that. 

It thought of Dorian and Lavellan again. Felt envy. Looked down at its hand and saw… no change. No green fire, only the same steady purple it usually had.

So. It had become something more than a simple desire demon. It realized that it could _feel_ the changes taking place inside it. Growing stronger. More complex.

The demon thought about the ability to use more than one emotion to tempt a mortal into something. Wicked anticipation bubbled and it laughed aloud, the sound echoing off the canyons nearby.

After thousands of years, it was time to choose a name.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to lafillechanceuse and wormwoodwords for their beta efforts.


End file.
